


The Bastard Of The Rock

by ETHusme



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Long Shot, New Character - Freeform, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETHusme/pseuds/ETHusme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins during s06e08, mostly faithful to the show but also book elements. Introducing a new character that changes the story as told by the show: Brienne does not leave Riverrun on her own.<br/>For now it covers the siege of Riverrun, the Battle of the Bastards and its aftermath. Then goes beyond!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tytos I

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I post one of my works. English is not my first language but I tried to write something in English to reach more people. Please be honest, if my English is too bad I will stop and write in my native tongue.

 

 ‘What did she have to offer ?’

 ‘She wanted me to surrender the castle and go with her to the North, to my niece Sansa.’

 ‘Sansa Stark?’

 ‘Yes.’

 ‘Why?’

 ‘She has apparently reunited with her bastard brother Jon Snow and wants to take back Winterfell. Of course she does not have the men.’

 ‘And that woman is?’

 ‘Brienne of Tarth.’

 ‘Who is she?’

 ‘You know where Tarth is, Hill?’

 ‘Of course I do. I had never heard of Brienne of Tarth.’

 ‘She is Lord Tarth’s daughter, the heir to Tarth.’

 ‘What is she doing here?’

 ‘I don’t know! Leave me alone with your bloody questions!’

 ‘What are you going to do?’

 ‘What do you want me to do? Do I have a choice?’

 ‘You do.’

 ‘That would mean surrendering Riverrun. I’m not surrendering my family’s home to Jaime Lannister.’

 ‘But your niece…’

 ‘I haven’t seen her since she was a girl. I have nothing to do with her.’

 ‘But Catelyn…’

 ‘Little Cat is dead.’

                The Blackfish seems lost beyond the siege, beyond the red and gold banners of house Lannister. The sun is rising behind the tents, far away, but he is trapped in his precious home. A golden haired man is standing behind him on the battlements, breathing in the morning air. The man is wearing a peculiar armor, part Tully scales, part Lannister red pauldrons and a sigil with a black lion passant on a red and gold field on the chest. He suggested:

 ‘I could hold the castle while you’re…’

 ‘You? Holding a castle? How?’

 ‘My men and I will stay while yours are in the North.’

 ‘Your _men_ …’

 ‘With all due respect my lord I…’

 ‘Shut up about it will you bastard! Your men cannot hold the castle against Jaime Lannister if he storms it, as I think he will. The Freys didn’t have the balls for it, he does.’

                The man let out a sigh and turned his head to the fields of Freys and Lannisters surrounding them.  The Blackfish did not stop there:

 ‘Don’t you think I can see where you are going? You are dying to fight against your brother; you think your day has come, the day when you will finally prove that you are worth more than him.’

 ‘I have to object my Lord, I have no brother but the men I fight with.’

‘Aye, you say that too often boy. I like you, you know that, but do not lie to me and tell me you wouldn’t want your steel on his throat.’

 ‘Maybe, one day. But not now.’

 ‘What do you want then?’

                _What do I want? A fight. I want to fight. I don’t care whose throat my steel strokes._

 ‘Would your men hold the castle?’

 ‘If I knew we wouldn’t be standing here, arguing.’

 ‘Would you want me to go North with the Lady?

 ‘Do you really think you and your three hundred men could make a difference up there? You know who’s holding the castle? The Boltons. Ramsay Bolton, or better, Ramsay Snow, another bastard. You know what they do to their enemies? They flay them alive.’

 ‘They would need to catch me first. And they’re never doing that.’

 ‘You’re good young Hill, but perhaps not that good. You’re so old, but then so young. You have the energy of a young squire, but the age of a seasoned knight. I am surprised nothing has crushed our spirits yet.’

                The man turns back to Brynden Tully, bows lightly and then turns around to the inside of the castle when he hears a voice:

 ‘Hill! If you volunteer, you can go. Fight for me beside my niece.’

 ‘Thank you, my Lord. Where can I find this Brienne of Tarth?’

 ‘I believe she went back to the Lannister camp.’

 ‘The Lannister camp? Why would she? I thought…’

 ‘She obviously has some kind of arrangement with the Kingslayer.’

 

                A few minutes later he was on the drawbridge across the ditch, facing an incredibly tall and imposing woman. He was followed by a young man wearing an armour similar to his. He scrutinized the woman, when she cleared her throat. He took a step towards her and introduced himself:

 ‘My Lady, my name is Tytos Hill. Lord Tully has informed me of your request, and of his refusal to grant you this request. I have only three hundred men, but if the besiegers would let me safe passage we have horses enough to follow you to the North.’

                The tall woman looked positively stunned. She opened her mouth but no sound came out of it at first. She answered:

 ‘And why would you want to join our cause, Ser… Ser Hill?’

 ‘I am no Ser, but I would join your cause because I can see that my Lord Tully wants to help you. As you can see, it is impossible for him to leave the castle. Three hundred might not be as much as you expected, but it is better than going back North on your own.’

 ‘I hope that you will excuse me for sounding suspicious but who are you? And who are your men? I have never heard of you before.’

 ‘As I have told you, my name is Tytos Hill. I am a bastard from the Westerlands, sworn to the Blackfish. He cannot come in person, but he can send me to help you. My men are nameless people, unimportant knights and they are sworn to me.’

 ‘How did you come in his service?’

              The man moved his green eyes to the tents behind the woman in front of him, and to the men walking in the camp, until she cocked her head in impatience. He answered:

 ‘I was raised on Fair Isle, not far from Fair Castle. In my childhood I used to run naked in the fields with flowers in my hair. I sparred with the Lords Farman and every night I would watch the sun set on the Sunset Sea with the young daughter of my Lord…’

 ‘You will not mock me.’

 ‘I am not.’

 ‘Lord Farman does not have a daughter.’

                A very large grin appeared on his face. She frowned and took a step back.

                _What a strange woman_.

 ‘I was hoping you would know that.’

                She straightened up and looked to have regained her composure:

 ‘You understand that I need to know who you are. Does the Lady Sansa know you?’

 ‘Of course she does not. Why would she?’

                She clenched her jaw. He said between his smiling lips:

 ‘Why must you be so wary my lady?’

 ‘You do know that you look a lot like a Lannister. And yet you are sworn to a Tully.’

 ‘You have some blond hair yourself. Does it mean that you secretly spy for the Kingslayer? Or are you actually a spy for the giants in the North?’

                She did not blink an eye at the jape. He carried on:

 ‘Either you go back to your Lady on your own, having failed at your mission, or you stop questioning me and we leave tomorrow morning, you, me, and my three hundred men. That is, if your Kingslayer lets us live.’

 ‘And he will.’

 ‘I would like to talk to him.’

                She stands there in front of him for a while, then turns back and leaves behind the grey and crimson tents. Tytos turns to the man standing behind him and asks:

 ‘Did she answer something?’

                The man shook his head.

                When Brienne comes back she is followed by a golden haired man, much like Tytos, but wearing a glorious gold and red armor. He stopped in front of him and asked:

 ‘Ser?’

 ‘Tytos Hill. Ser Jaime.’

 ‘Well, Ser Tytos Hill, it seems you wanted to speak to me. In fact it seems like everyone in this castle is dying to meet me.’

 ‘I am no Ser. I wanted you to give me your word you will not slay my men as we walk through your camp tonight.’

 ‘You have my word.’   

                Tytos looks into his eyes, unflinching. Jaime cocks his head and raises one eyebrow:

 ‘That’s a nice sigil you’ve got there. Although I think you should have asked before stealing my ancestor’s idea. And the Blackfish’s idea too of course. And the Blackfyre’s I suppose. Do you make them call you the Blacklion too? Or… Blackmane!’

 ‘You are a talker Ser Jaime. Thank you for the compliment. What would you ancestor think about you though? I guess he would have been disappointed. Lann the Clever would not have stabbed his king in the back. At least he would have had someone else do it for him.’

 ‘I am disappointed, I expected some taunts worthy of that hair of yours. ’

                Tytos screwed up his eyes and looked over Jaime’s shoulder to Brienne.

 ‘Have you two conspired against my hair? Should I have asked for permission before growing it too?’

                The woman did not even turn her head. Tytos ended the discussion:

 ‘I have nothing more to say. We shall exit the castle at daybreak tomorrow. I would have the Lady Brienne with me as soon as I take a step out.’

 

 ‘Good luck son. I would like to think I will see you again soon, but neither you nor I have strong chances of survival; although I much prefer the prospect of my death at the hands of the Kingslayer to that of yours at the hands of the Boltons. At least a sword in the back kills you quickly.’

 ‘Thank you for the encouragement, my Lord.’

 ‘Stop being so formal with me! Are you that sad to leave?’

 ‘No! I am very anxious as a matter of fact.’

 ‘Not scared?’

 ‘I am scared. And afraid we will never meet again. I have so much to thank you for…’

 ‘Thank me by helping my niece. I wish I could help her myself…’

 ‘I know, Blackfish.’

                Tytos let out a grin at the name. Bryden Tully put a hand on his elbow and said:

 ‘You should have a name too you know. Hill is too… Too common.’

 ‘A bastard’s name. But you know, I am a bastard, I have accepted that long ago. I don’t need to hide it.’

 ‘You deserve a name. Blackmane maybe?’

                He could not control a burst of laughter.

 ‘You do not like it boy?’

 ‘I could have, if Jaime Lannister had not already suggested it.’

 ‘Fine. Tytos Hill it will be then. Would you still have for me to grant you your knighthood? You do know that most of the men that follow you are knights.’

 ‘I do know this. And still I will only be knighted the day I accomplish something.’

 ‘You are a stubborn kid.’

 ‘I learnt from the very best.’

                They both smiled. Tytos continued:

 ‘And you do know that it is very strange to most that you must call me ‘boy’ or ‘kid’?’

 ‘But you are a kid!’

 ‘I will be four and forty this year.’

 ‘That does not count, Blackmane.’

                Tytos looked at the hustling around them. Men were running across the square with saddles and bags in their arms, preparing for their long trip north. They had gathered a few Tully banners, and some of Tytos’s personal banners. Looking at it, he thought back to what Jaime Lannister had said:

 ‘The Kingslayer said I should have asked for your permission before creating my sigil.’

 ‘He would. Did he advise you to ask for permission about your hair colour too?’

 ‘I think he did yes.’

 ‘You are not your brother Tytos, you have never been. I know you better than you think I do. All these years together, you have grown under my command; you are the closest thing I have to a son.’

                Tytos chuckled at this statement and commented:

 ‘I never thought of you as the type of man who adopts lost souls like mine.’

 ‘Stop it child. I am doing my best right now. I do not want you to leave me forever with the idea that I am only an old bitter man.’

 ‘Please talk.’

 ‘You may have Lannister blood...’

                Tytos cocked his head and clenched his jaw.

 ‘Yes, I know that look, you do have Lannister blood. But you are not a Lannister. You are Tytos Hill, and now you will be going your own way, Tytos Hill’s way. Not Jaime Lannister’s, not Tywin Lannister’s, not even Brynden Tully’s. This black lion is yours. Show the world that you deserve that sigil. Do not die too quickly.’

                The Blackfish patted his shoulder, smiled and concluded:

 ‘Farewell, Blackmane.’

 ‘Farewell, Blackfish.’

 ‘Oh! And don’t forget that beast of yours.’

 

                Tytos had attached a white banner to his own. He was holding it, ridding his beast across the drawbridge, followed by his three hundred men on horses. They were all wearing their armors and sword belts. They would not stand a chance had the Freys and Westermen decided they would not let them cross but at least they would all die sword in hand. Their horses had grown accustomed to his beast, but as he grew closer to Brienne’s horse on the other bank the animal twitched and she had to use all four members to calm it down. She was followed by a young black-haired boy on a stocky horse that was at least as agitated as the other one. The boy was not as skilled a rider as his Lady.

                Jaime Lannister stood a few yards behind them with a dozen of his men, but he was not wearing any armor nor carrying any weapon. He was looking at the beast with a smile at the corner of his mouth, while his men showed surprise, some even fear. Tytos stopped in front of them. Jaime started:

 ‘It is a nice lion you have got there. Is it a mountain lion?’

 ‘It is indeed. A mountain lion of the Vale.’

 ‘Does is blow fire too?’

                Tytos did not answer, but imitated Jaime’s smile and raised one eyebrow:

 ‘Are you jealous, Kingslayer?’

 ‘Of course I am. Three hundred men wearing fish scales and a big grey lion, what more could a man want? Do you lack horses?’

                _Can I ride you up to Winterfell, Kingslayer?_

                They both kept silent. Tytos turned to his men, nodded, and then turned to Brienne:

 ‘Shall we go?’

                She nodded back, glanced at Jaime Lannister and went forward with Tytos. They rode past the small group of men, and then through the camp. The lion stirred a few horses and its rider even saw some men run to their tents. Brienne rode beside him, her squire behind her. Tytos towered over both of them from atop his beast.  

                When they had reached the outskirts of the camp they could see the flat landscape of the Riverlands and the rivers crawling between the trees. The sun had only just risen from the horizon on their right. Tytos took a deep breath. _I am out of this castle. He let us live._ He looked at the woman riding next to him, who had just stolen as last glance at the camp. _I doubt she is going to miss Riverrun._


	2. Brienne I

The trip was rather uneventful. Tytos Hill as neither inquisitive nor talkative, and it suited her well. At first she had been afraid he would be like Jaime, but they did not have that in common. They did have a few conversations, but he had not made any remarks regarding her height, strength or choice in life. He could be as witty as his lookalike, but he also knew when to remain silent.

                After a few days on the road she started asking questions too.  She asked about the lion. Tytos had found a cub in the Vale when serving at the Bloody Gate with Ser Brynden, and decided to keep him. Most had thought it was folly, but the man had managed to tame the beast somehow. He was not as obedient as a horse or a dog, and only followed his master, but it was enough for him. He had named it Tygett. A few hours later she was still thinking about the animal’s name, and about the man’s sigil and armour. She did not know exactly how long he has remained in the Westerlands, but the man seemed to want to keep a sort of connection with this region. He had awoken a sort of curiosity in her that she had not felt for a long time.

              He did ask her a few questions too, although they were mostly about the trip and the military situation in the North. They had agreed to stay out the roads once they passed the Neck. They avoided the Twins by following the River’s Road all the way to Lord Harroway’s Town, and then more or less followed the King’s Road north, although they lost many days in doing so, but the Frey’s stronghold could not be approached. Jaime Lannister had allowed them to leave, but they had heard nothing from the Freys present at the siege.

                There had been few incidents on the road. Some soldiers complained about disappearing rations, and accused others but whenever Tytos stepped in the argument they all lowered they voices and withdrew their threats. He seemed a natural commander of men, and these men were rather special men. They did not rally behind one banner. Some carried Tully banners, some carried the black lion, and others had strange banners Brienne could not identify so she concluded they were their own. Most of them had black images. _A band of bastards_ , she thought. _The brotherhood with too many banners._ She hoped that soon they would be carrying the grey direwolf too. 

                One night as she was walking through the camp on her own, four men intercepted her and suggested she had a drink with them. They did not have much ale left, and they said she should have her share too. She tried to refuse them, but they insisted and in the end she sat down with them, telling herself that she could be out of here as soon as she wanted. They were sitting in front of their tent, and had Tully banners flying over them. They were not wearing any armour, but had their sword belts around their waists. One of them had red hair and a red beard, but the three others were black-haired. She could not see very well in the darkness but it seemed to Brienne they had very light skin, much like her. The one standing closer to her introduce themselves:

 ‘My name is Randyll Rivers, this is Keylan, Jon Waters and that ginger there is Hanrey Rivers. You are Brienne of Tarth, are you not?’

 ‘That is true.’

 ‘Tell us, what is your story?’ asked Jon Waters.

 ‘My story?’

 ‘Yes, your story,’ answered Jon. ‘We all have stories here. You do not find yourself in the company of the bastard of the rock without a story.’

                They all nodded and smiled. Hanrey Rivers poured the drinks and handed a horn of ale to Brienne. She looked at the dark beverage and concluded she would have a hard time drinking it. Seeing that she was not going to talk, he started:

 ‘We bastards all have a story surrounding our birth. Because we have a name we are certainly the sons of some lord. Some know who their parents are, other do not. All you can do is speculate. For example Randyll here is convinced he is the bastard son of Randyll Tarly because of his name. But his whore mother did not really know who is father was, she had so many men…’

                Randyll laughed at this, and then they all looked to Brienne who said:

 ‘Well, I know who my parents are. My mother died when I was young, but my father is Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar.’

 ‘That’s not a good story indeed’ said Randyll. ‘Tell her your story Jon.’

 ‘My tavern wench of a mother told me I was born somewhere in the Riverlands of Robert Baratheon. She raised me in flee bottom. I could see my father’s house on the hill every day, but I lived in the mud, like everyone else down here. Once when I was ten years old I saw the King followed by some soldiers in the street. I believe they were going on a hunt. At the time he looked so glorious up there on his tall horse, and the men that followed him wore white cloaks that shone brighter than the sun itself. That day I went back to the small room I shared with my mother and told her I wanted to become a knight at my father’s service. She told me I was a fool, and that she had only told me a story to make me walk proudly in the streets, that the King was nowhere near my father, but that my father was probably one of his foot soldiers who certainly died miserably in battle a few days after having spent himself inside her. I was very sad of course, but I still wanted to become a knight. One day I met a man from the Night’s Watch who was looking for men in King’s Landing. I asked him if I could join him, if joining the Night’s Watch would make me a knight everyone would admire. He answered that it certainly would not, and that if I wanted to make a name for myself I would better join Tytos Hill’s band of bastards in the Vale. I asked what the Vale was; he laughed and told me I should come with him. That he would take me there. I said goodbye to my mother, promised I would come back and make her proud, and left with the man and his strange company. On my way north I learnt how to fight with the future men of the Night’s Watch. According to their leader I was not a bad fighter, he said I would have my chance in the Vale. In the Riverlands we met merchants who were travelling to the Vale and agreed to show me the way to the Bloody Gate. I left my previous companions and soon I was meeting with the Blackfish and Tytos Hill. At first our Lord Hill was a bit wary of me, but then he was flattered his name had travelled all the way to King’s Landing and Brynden Tully suggested I proved my worth against one of his young men. I lost my fight, but our commander accepted me as one of his men.’

                Brienne was smiling at the man’s enthusiasm as he told his story and commented:

 ‘That is an interesting story indeed. And your commander sounds like an interesting man.’

 ‘He is a special man’, answered Jon. ‘Some say that he is Lord Tywin Lannister’s bastard son; others that the Lord would never have been unfaithful to his wife. Everyone agrees that he has Lannister blood, and yet he fights against them in this war like they are nothing to him. And he was raised by one of Lord Tywin’s bannermen you see, Lord Farman of Fair Isle.’

 ‘We are all sworn to him, we keep no link with our previous family’, added Hanrey Rivers. In a way we are not so different from the men of the Night’s Watch, but we serve him, and he serves the Blackfish.’

                Brienne nodded. She was truthfully interested by what they had to say, and even found herself to be enjoying the men’s company. She drank at her horn. Keylan who had remained silent asked:

 ‘And you, who do you serve?’

 ‘I serve Lady Sansa of house Stark’, she answered.

 ‘Then why are you carrying that golden sword?’ added Keylan.

                The three other men exchanged worried looks as Brienne straightened up on her stool. She knew that behaviour was likely to make her look suspicious but there was nothing she could do to appear more innocent. The man continued:

 ‘What were you doing in the Kingslayer’s camp?’

 ‘Ser Jaime and I are fulfilling a…’ she tried.

 ‘Ser Jaime, aye?’ cut Keylan. ‘Are you lovers? Are you his whore?’

                She frowned. Randyll elbowed him in the ribs but he did not care:

 ‘I have never heard of someone who could spend the night in the Kingslayer’s bed but who was sworn to a Stark.’

                She started up but Randyll glanced over her shoulder and elbowed his companion harder.

 ‘What the Lady does in her free time is none of your business Keylan. And if she did whelp a bastard of her own I know she would make sure he joined our ranks.’

                She turned around and saw Tytos standing behind her, staring at the man who was insulting her. The soldier reluctantly apologised:

 ‘Please forgive me, Lady Brienne.’

                He left inside his tent. Hill looked at the Tully banner flying over it and said to the three remaining men:

 ‘He is probably sad he had to leave that whore of his at Riverrun. Find him a replacement, or do something about it.’

 ‘Yes, my Lord.’

 ‘Come with me my Lady’, ordered Tytos.  

                He pointed in direction of her tent. She followed him to the entrance, where he said before leaving:

 ‘Men like to talk when they are bored. This walk is boring. Do not pay attention to rumours, especially the ones about me.’

 ‘They have not said anything about you.’

 ‘If they have not they will, believe me. Now, good night.’

                She went into the tent she was sharing with her squire. They had installed a sort of partition in the middle to give each a bit of privacy, not that it was necessary after they had spent a year on the road together. The boy was already in his camp bed. She went to her own bed and thought back to what the men had said.

                It was not the first time that sword of hers had proven a disadvantage. But she could not bring herself to hide it. Jaime had given it to her as she set out on her journey; it was nothing to be ashamed of. He had assured her once again that it was hers, that she should keep it.

                She did not want to need Tytos Hill’s protection from his own men. She was no leader, but at least she needed the respect of his men. She had been sneered at before, and mocked, but here she had thought she had finally found men who thought of her as her equal, or at least men who behaved like she was their equal. And then he spoke. His comrades did not seem to approve, but that did not change anything. And now that their commander had intervened they might even start spreading rumours that she followed him to his tent.

                And what had he meant by “especially the ones about me”? Did he have nothing to do with the Lannisters? Or was he simply not raised on Fair Isle? She was surprised to find herself wondering about those things. Men were not alone in having interest for gossip when they were bored.


	3. Tytos II

The Lady of Tarth had told him Jon Snow and his men had set camp West of Winterfell. There were still at least three weeks to go. They had not sent a raven for fear it would be intercepted by the Boltons and she feared they would have already attacked the castle. But there was nothing to be done, they were going as fast as they could, the horses were tired and there was no point in exhausting them before the battle where they would be needed.

                He was leading his force on his own for the first time since twenty years, and at the time it was more a band than an army. He had been afraid his men would have proven hard to lead, but in the end there had been little altercations until now. He had fallen upon one of his men insulting Brienne of Tarth, but it had not gone any further, probably thanks to his intervention. She was obviously used to men taunting her, but he could not let that happen among his men, for they were following her on a dangerous or even suicidal mission. They could not begin to doubt her motivation. Whatever relationship she entertained with the Kingslayer Tytos trusted her. Or rather, he did not believe that her leading three hundred men to the North would help the Lannisters in any way, so he did not see any reason to think she was following his orders.

                A few times he had been tempted to ask her about Jaime Lannister, about the kind of man she thought he was. While he did call him Kingslayer for all to hear he did not believe that a man could be completely evil or good. He was not only the man who put his swords in his King’s back, but most only knew him for that. That woman seemed to know him better. But he did not ask, for fear that she might think he was asking about her motivations. She did not ask him many questions either. She was curious about his lion, but she did not ask about his family.

He had warned her not to believe whatever rumours his men spread about him. He had heard some very creative stories about himself: that he was the son of Tywin Lannister and a lioness, or of Joana Lannister and a lion. But most seemed to agree on the point that he was a brother to the Queen, her twin brother and their little brother Tyrion. Even the Blackfish believed it. In truth Tytos did not know anything about his parents. People had concluded that he was of noble birth because of his position as a ward on Fair Isle but no-one had told him about his family during his childhood. Not that he really cared anymore. He had made a name for himself; he did not need anyone else’s name.

He was anxious to meet that Jon Snow. He had heard about him from the Blackfish. One of the youngest Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, if not the youngest. Brynden Tully always spoke of him bitterly of course, but he could not hide his admiration. When Tytos asked Brienne how he could have left his duties as Lord Commander she said something about him being killed by his own men and then brought back to life by a red priestess from Essos. Whatever the truth behind that was the North sounded like an interesting place. Sure, the Boltons flayed their enemies living but it was worth the risk. Sieges were awfully dull, and Tytos had seized the opportunity to escape from one. Besides, he had never been to the North and he had grown tired of the Riverlands. He was a man of the hills and mountains. He hoped the North would prove more interesting.

During the last few days of their march the men appeared more nervous. No-one really knew what to expect, and neither did Tytos. They were now completely surrounded by snow and while most of them had already seen snow, very few had already seen the North, including their leader. One afternoon as he was riding next to Brienne he asked:

 ‘Had you ever been to the North before my Lady?’

 ‘No, it was my first time here. I imagine it must sound very silly to wanderers like you but I have not seen much of the Seven Kingdoms.’

 ‘It does not sound silly at all. I had never been to the North either. I have never been to the Stormlands either.’

 ‘Well, I have never been to the Westerlands.’

 ‘Have you not? I imagine one would rather see Dorne and the Reech.’

                She nodded and did not answer, as if she was tired of that smalltalk at the eve of a desperate battle. Tytos could feel that she was at least as nervous as his soldiers. He asked:

 ‘What do you think are our chances at Winterfell?’

 ‘I could not say. Jon Snow sent for more men in the North, and the wildlings he brought south of the wall should help us but I could not say how many men he managed to rally to his side.’

 ‘And what about the Boltons?’

 ‘They crushed Stannis Baratheon. I believe they have been joined by the Karstarks and Umbers since then.’

                Tytos looked her in the eye as well as he could from his own horse. She was looking straight in front of her, her face stern and sullen. He tried to anger her:

 ‘I used to think you were reluctant to give your opinion but I am starting to believe you do not actually have opinion of your own.’

 ‘My opinions do not matter.’

 ‘I would very much like to know if my men and I are doomed or if I can tell them we actually stand a chance so they do not shit themselves when they see Winterfell. Or is that asking too much of you?’

                He saw some muscles agitating on her face. She was angry, but she would not talk.

                And they did not talk again until they saw Jon Snow’s camp at the foot of a small hill. When he saw the size of the camp Tytos tried to remember why he had decided to leave Riverrun in the first place. What kind of folly had led him to flee a comfortable castle to join a shabby camp of some five thousand men at least, and covered in snow? He looked around at his men, and at the Lady Brienne. Few were able to contain their fear at that moment. One could see a dozen direwolf banners floating, two bears on a green field and a few other banners Tytos had never seen. Most of the tents seemed to be inhabited by wildlings.

                The reactions from the men in the camp were the exact opposite. The Southerners saw smiles on their faces, some even opened their arms as a welcoming gesture and Jon Snow was quickly there to greet them in person. When they arrived near the camp they dismounted, and although they had wisely decided not to show off Tytos’s banners for fear they might be misinterpreted as enemy banners the young bastard from the North gave him a suspicious look. He walked over to Brienne and said:

 ‘My sister will be happy to see you my Lady.’

                Tytos cocked his head and added:

 ‘But you are not, Lord Snow?’

                Snow frowned and fixed his gaze on the man on Brienne right. She introduced him:

 ‘My Lord, this is Tytos Hill. I was unable to secure the Blackfish and his men, they are under siege. But this man was at your sister’s uncle service and accepted to follow me north with his three thousand men.’

                Tytos could see the young man’s jaw clenching. He wanted to give him one of his smug smiles but from what he had gathered about him it was not the best way to earn his trust. Instead he bowed slightly in front of him and said:

 ‘I am at your service, my Lord.’

 ‘I am not a Lord, not anymore.’

 ‘Yes indeed. I hear we are both bastards, but it might be the only thing we have in common.’

 ‘I hope you are right. I am loyal to my father’s name. I hope that you are not to yours.’

 ‘You have nothing to fear Commander; I do not know who my father is.’

                Tytos could not help smirking at that, but Snow looked at his breastplate, raised an eyebrow and turned back to Brienne.

 ‘My Lady, will you please follow me to our tent? Ser Hill, you and your men can raise your camp here, but we are not planning on staying too long. Then you can join us in the command tent.’

 ‘How will I find it? Have you installed some signs?’

                Snow did not even look at him, but Brienne sent him a disapproving look before following the Commander.

               

 ‘We are doomed, are we not Commander?’

                Tytos turned around to face three men who were sitting around a fire in front of their tents. His banner was flying above it. They had dared putting them up and he had not heard of any remarks being made. He knew the man who had talked, but not the other two. Jon Snow had planned to lead their attack on the next day and Tytos was taking a last walk between his tents. He had been invited to the little reunion in Snow’s tent, and this walk seemed to him to be his walk of goodbye to life and to the world of the living. After hearing this question from one of his men he decided he could as well share these moments. He sat down on a log and opened his hands:

 ‘I should as well be straightforward and tell you that there is not much hope left for us Trevas. But Commander Snow decided we should go, and his advisors did not try to stop him. So I imagine there is a chance.’

                The men looked at each other and the man on Trevas’s right said:

 ‘Do you believe in some sort of afterlife Commander?’

 ‘Are you so set on dying that you must ask me that?’

                Tytos tried his best smile, but he could swear that the men had noticed it never got to his eyes. Trevas smiled back anyway and said:

 ‘Pardon my comrade Brynnan here, he is not the most light-hearted and optimistic man in your army.’

 ‘My army!’

                Tytos laughed heartily this time, but none of the men facing him followed him. He realised, too late, that this laughter might have been seen as a mockery. His smile suddenly disappeared from his lips and he sighed heavily. He asked, seriously:

 ‘Are you so afraid of death that you must prepare for it in advance even if you are not certain to die, Brynnan?’

 ‘It does not hurt to be ready. Although I doubt any man can say he is ready for death without lying a little.’

 ‘That is true…’

                They all seemed to be looking at their feet. Tytos thought about what his man had just said. He had never contemplated the possibility of dying. He had risked his life before, but the odds had never been so hopeless and he had chosen not to think about the possibility. He had never even thought of the possibility of someone he knew and liked dying. He realised now that he had never felt for another human any affection other than comradeship. The feeling left him empty and profoundly sad. Brynden Tully had his home, his family to fight for. He had had his dear nieces to protect. Tytos did not have anyone. He had not even had the affection a child could have for the people who raised him. His education had been very stern, and the people providing it had not been different. He did not have much to complain about, but he did not have anything to push him forward, save his taste for adventure. He had a few playmates, but it never went beyond the games children play. He could not even bring back any face or name to his memory at this moment.

                He called for something to fill his void:

 ‘I have to be honest with you and admit I do not believe in any afterlife, and if I did I do not know where I would like to be after I die. But please tell me about your idea of the afterlife Brynnan.’ 


	4. Brienne II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the Battle of the Bastards begins.

 ‘Do whatever you want to do with that information. Tell him; do not tell him, it does not matter to me. My sister has been told and I think she cares little for it.’

 ‘Does she not?’

 ‘No. She barely knew the man and had never been to Riverrun. Of course it is a Lannister victory so it is bad news but nothing more.’

 ‘Very well, Commander.’

 ‘Try to get some rest, my Lady.’

 ‘Thank you, Commander.’

                She left the tent, still under the shock of the news they had just received. She had been summoned to Jon Snow’s tent a little time after they had finished their council. There she had seen that a man wearing scaled armour was sitting in a corner, looking exhausted. He was being brought some food. She had imagined a hundred scenarios at that moment. The siege could not have been over that fast. He could have been sent by the Blackfish to ask for Tytos Hill’s return, or to announce that they had crushed the Lannister forces. She could never have imagined what really happened. Jaime had had Edmure Tully surrender the castle. All the besieged lived save for one: the man leading them. They killed the Blackfish. _What a waste of men_ , she thought. They could have all come north; it would not have changed anything, except that Brynden Tully might have lived. His stubbornness cost him his life. Surely there was a lesson to be learnt here.

                Jon Snow had let her decide whether they should tell Hill or not. She did not know the man that well; she did not know how he felt about the Blackfish. He was loyal to him, but did he truly love him? The news might shatter him, and provide him with an anger that might help with the battle that awaited them. Or he could go mad with grief and decide to leave and go back to Riverrun to retake the castle. But Brienne did not really have a choice. She had to tell him the truth, before he heard it from another mouth. She had to be honest with him. Then he would decide whether to share the news with his men or not, this was nothing of her business.

                She started walking in his camp’s direction. Many men were still sitting in front of their tents. They were probably as scared as the Stark men, but they had not left. Then she saw the great grey beast asleep next to a tent above which flew the black lion of Hill’s banners. He looked asleep, but Brienne was sure that the lion could still hear and smell everything. She walked around the tent to the entrance. She saw four men sitting around a fire. One of them who was sitting on a rock was talking with his hands, seemingly trying to explain something that came from the depths of his mind. Tytos and the other two were listening to him carefully. She could not see their faces very well, but she could make out the torn lines on Tytos’s face. She walked closer and the man stopped talking when he saw her. They all turned to her. She cleared her throat, but the Commander spoke first:

 ‘My Lady. If you cannot find sleep tonight, come and join us as we talk about the afterlife around this fire.’

                He showed her an empty space next to him on a log. She did not move and said:

 ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Commander Hill, but could I talk to you in private? I have some news I would like to share with you.’

                He looked at her for a moment and then put his hands on his knees, stood up and turned to his men:

 ‘I am sorry to leave such an interesting conversation. Please excuse me. Try to have some rest at least. I will see you tomorrow.’

                They wished him goodnight and he left with her, his beast following them. When they were about 10 feet away from the last tents he stopped and she stood there in front of him. The Moon was almost full and her light reverberated on the snow. Her eyes now accustomed to this light she could see his face very well. He was obviously nervous, and japed:

 ‘What news have you got for me that it has to be this secret? Are we to fight off the Boltons on our own? Are the others leaving out of desperation?’

                She sighed slightly but let out a faint smile. He raised his eyebrows and commented:

 ‘Oh. It must be very bad news if you endure a smile of your own will.’

 ‘In truth I do not know how bad the news is for you.’

 ‘Then please be done with it.’

 ‘Jaime Lannister has taken the castle.’

                His eyes opened wide and he clenched his jaw. She could hear his breathing, made heavier by the tension. She carried on:

 ‘He took it without any bloodshed. Except for the Blackfish. The whole garrison surrendered at Edmure Tully’s order, but Brynden Tully would not, and he died fighting.’

                Nothing more showed on his face. She did not add anything, but he was still looking at her, as if expecting her to say something that might make the news easier to take in. After what seemed an eternity to her she said:

 ‘I am very sorry, Tytos Hill. I know you liked Ser Tully. He was a good man, and he died fighting for what he held dear.’

                He did not move, she was starting to feel his gaze on her face to intensely. She looked away over his shoulder. His lion was sitting behind him and was looking at her too. She could not see the colour of his eyes, but at that moment she could bet they were the same colour as his master’s. Tytos started slowly shaking his head.

                He spat between his teeth:

 ‘That fool Edmure… That fool! How can he be his uncle’s nephew, craven that he is! Can you believe it? The Kingslayer was not anywhere near taking the castle when we left, and I do not think it possible that it changed in that little time. That craven Edmure Tully, and that louse Jaime Lannister. I will take back the castle and have the Kingslayer’s head on a spike and leave it here until there is nothing left of it!’

                Brienne took a step back at the violence of his words. For an instant she imagined Jaime’s lifeless head on the battlements. She was at loss for words but managed to say:

 ‘Not now, now you have to take Winterfell. Avenge him by killing his family’s enemies.’

                She regretted saying that as soon as the words left her lips. Tytos’s eyes darted back to her own and he said, hatred in his voice:

 ‘Who do you take me for? Of course I will kill those Boltons as I swore I would. Then I very well hope that Stark of yours will lend me some of her men to take back Riverrun, and I will kill every Lannister I can find.’

                She knew he was much older than her, she had gathered from the conversations they had had together that he was in fact about forty years old, but right now he sounded like a boy hungry for revenge and glory, a young nervous boy talking faster than he was thinking. It was a mercy she had asked him to talk far from his men, as this would have certainly altered his image as a Commander. She had noticed during the walk north that he wanted to give his men the impression of a measured but thoughtful man, and this image would have been shattered to pieces had they heard and seen him now. His lion was pacing about them. A first she thought of a sort of mind connection but then she came back to her senses and realised the animal had surely only heard his master’s tone of voice.

                The master froze, his eyes lost somewhere over the camp. She tried:

 ‘Would you like me to…’

 ‘Leave me alone, please.’

              She bowed slightly and turned around. She started walking towards the camp, when the lion jumped in front of her. He did not give out any signs of hostility, but she was terrified at this great beast looking her in the eyes. It almost seemed that he was trying to tell her something that was impossible to say. He sat there for a moment, but then his master called him and Brienne carried on walking.

                On her way to her tent she saw that most men had retreated to the inside of their tents. She could still hear conversations but the wind was rising. It was for the best, she did not want to have to talk to anyone. The black lion sigil had made her think back to Jaime’s banners. He had tried, but he had failed to keep his oath. He did take arms against Lady Catelyn’s family. Of course she assumed he did not kill the Blackfish himself, and maybe he did not even give the order, but something was off. She wondered how he could have persuaded Edmure Tully to surrender the castle. The man may have been a fool as Hill was claiming, but he would not have surrendered that easily. The Tullys were not in a desperate situation there, the siege could have lasted years according to their Commander.

                She went into her tent, and prepared for the night she was going to try to sleep. Podrick was not here, he was probably not even going to try to sleep this night, and she could understand.

 

                Since most riders were the men of Tytos Hill, Jon Snow had appointed him Commander of their small cavalry. She was only two horses away from him, next to Ser Davos Seaworth, one of Stannis’s men. He was riding a horse, his lion was standing near. They were on the edge of a field covered with dirty snow. The air of the morning was fresh, and steam came out of the horses’ nostrils. On the field were burning flayed men. She had not expected less from the Boltons, but she had felt her bones freeze at the sight. She could see Jon Snow on his horse in front of the infantry, surrounded by the wildling fellow with the beard and a few leading men from the lesser houses Snow had managed to rally to his cause. Brienne had asked Pod to stay at the camp with Lady Sansa. He protested much, but she could not see him here. She argued that she could not be able to fight if she was worried for him. She had never been in a battle before. The men looked afraid, but not as afraid as they had been the night before. Now they could not go back, she could not go back.

                She had spent the night thinking about what she would lose if she died the day after. She thought of her father, she thought she ought to have said goodbye at least, then she remembered she had said goodbye when she left to join Renly’s camp. She thought about the people she had served that were dead. She thought about her friendship with Jaime, and concluded that it was going nowhere anyway. They could not be friends anymore; they were fighting against each other. She thought about Pod, but then she concluded that if she died he would surely die too, or survive and be anointed a knight. She was ready for whatever was coming.

                When the enemy appeared above the hill, Tytos ordered his horse to walk forward. He stopped when he was about a yard in front of them. Behind him two men carried banners: his own and a Tully banner. There had been nothing of the fury she had seen the days before in him now. She suspected it was well hidden.

                Tytos’s golden hair was shining shyly against the bleak surroundings. Everything was grey or black, the banners were not flying for lack of wind and his brightness was a welcome sight. The enemy was on their side of the hill now, and Brienne could feel her horse squirm under her. She was scared, scared like she had never been scared before. Although she knew all her comrades were scared she felt alone with her fear. She surprised herself by thinking that it was not too late, that she could still run for her life. Of course those thoughts were somewhere at the very back of her mind and she had them disappear as soon as they appeared. Then she looked around that the men there, and some looked back. She felt stronger now. She would remember that wave of fear with shame, but it was gone.

                When the army in front of them stopped Tytos turned around to look at his men. Some nodded back, Brienne amongst them. She could see his eyes very clearly now. They were green. Not the colour of trees or moss, but green like a gemstone, or like the colour of stained glass. At this moment she thought back to Jaime Lannister. His battle had been easy; hers was likely not going to be. What was he doing now? Had he stayed in Riverrun or was he on his way back to King’s Landing?

                Then Tytos was facing their enemy again. People were moving in their ranks. A man on a horse she assumed to be Ramsey Bolton was dragging what seemed to be a young boy clad in furs thanks to a rope around his neck. Brienne saw Jon Snow stir on her right. She heard them talk at the meeting yesterday. Ramsey was going to push them into making mistakes. She feared the worst. Bolton took a knife from his belt, lifted it high, but then only cut the boy’s bonds. He leaned over his shoulder to say something in his ear, and then pointed at Jon and pushed the boy Brienne believed to be Rickon Stark. _What is the meaning of this?_ He started running towards Jon, who did not lose time and started his horse. Ramsey had a bow in his hands.

                She understood. She was horrified. She heard someone call Jon Snow’s name. She did not even try to identify the voice; her attention was all on the running boy.

                Bolton fired a few arrows. The first one missed from far. The second one was closer, but still no-where near the boy. Sansa had told her the monster was a great hunter; Brienne understood that he was missing on purpose. Jon was not far from his brother, but he was not going to let them be reunited. Never.

                The third arrow did not miss him. Rickon fell. Then everything went too fast around her, Jon Snow charged on his own, but his horse fell from underneath him. He was alone facing the enemy cavalry. She hears Tytos giving the order and her horse follows without her needing to ask for anything.


	5. Tytos III

                He needed to get to Jon Snow before their enemy’s horses. He was going to be stamped down with his beautiful sword. It was Valyrian steel. As he was at full speed on his horse he could not help thinking about the sword. He had never seen a sword so beautiful. The blade was black, and a wolf’s head was carved in the hilt. Tytos was suddenly struck by a feeling of loyalty to this boy he barely knew and had mistrusted the minute he saw him walk towards them. He dug his heels into his horse, Jon Snow could not die. Not him. _I will not let him die._

                And he passed him. His horse collided into an enemy’s and he fell to the ground. For a moment he forgot where down and up were, but he got back to his feet quickly, sword in hand. Tygett was behind him, and most of his men in front of him. He did not have much time to think, as he saw a horse ridding towards him, a man brandishing his sword on its back. Tytos moved aside to avoid it so it would have to slow down and then plunged his sword into the horse’s chest. It fell and he was then able to take care of its rider who still had his feet in the stirrups and could not do much to defend himself. Tytos cut his head off.

                As he was fighting off man after man he tried to assess the situation around him, as any good commander tries to do. They were clearly outnumbered, but arrows were being fired from somewhere, killing without discrimination Bolton and Stark men. He searched for Jon Snow, but instead he saw the blonde hair of Brienne of Tarth. She was not on her horse anymore either, was towering over most men, and did not seem to have a scratch on her glorious armour. He was only a few yards away from her. Their opponents seemed to try to avoid Tygett, and the lion was not in any way wounded. When he looked back he saw that there was still some infantry and archers at the border of the field, commander by Ser Davos. _There is no call for any strategy now, we all need to fight at once._ Soon after he had told this to himself he saw that the men were running into battle and he did not look back anymore for a while.

                He was starting to get tired; his sword seemed now too heavy to wield with agility, but men kept coming back at him, countless enemies as if there was not end to end. The ground was soon covered with dead bodies. Dead horses, and unidentified body parts. It had become hard to move around the field, harder to move forward and yet they were swarmed by Bolton men. It was now becoming very clear that they were not going to win this battle. He turned back to see if they could hope for a retreat.

                But they could not. Dead bodies were piled up to an incredible height. Tytos was horrified at the heaps of death that were entrapping them. He heard some cries ‘RETREAT! RETREAT!’ and then everyone turned to run. Some tried to climb the bodies, and fell. The enemy had stopped attacking. They seemed to be waiting for something. Tytos could even swear some were retreating into their own camp. He felt something dreadful was impending. Men were running all around, and he had to run too if he did not want to be trampled upon. He could not hear nor see anything clearly, but it seemed to him he was hearing some battle cry, probably from the enemy lines. As their progression came to a halt he found himself beside Brienne of Tarth. She did not look as glorious as he had seen her before; her face was covered in blood, and her left ear was bleeding. She looked back at him. He forced a smile upon his lips, and felt a warm feeling in his belly. Amongst all that horror he was seeing that familiar face, and his smile was not forced anymore. He saw a faint of a smile on her face too. He said:

 ‘Well, Brienne of Tarth, you look terrible.’

                She laughed heartily, and answered:

 ‘You too, Tytos Hill, although it is an improvement!’

                He laughed too, and suddenly that felt like the best joke in the world. People were not even looking at them, but they could not stop laughing. They could see men agonising in front of them, others dead, some missing limbs, but they were laughing, and the world seemed to be a better place.

                Then they heard some grunts from behind and turned around. They looked at the row of shields and lances entrapping them, and they stopped laughing. This time they were going to die. Everyone fell silent save the men holding the lances. They were closing in on the group of men. Some of the entrapped tried climbing over the pile of bodies again, but soon after men with some red banner appeared on top of the heap and they did not stand the slightest chance of escape. The first men were being killed by the lances. Tytos looked to Brienne again and said:

 ‘Have you thought about that afterlife?’

 ‘I have not. But I thought about life.’

 ‘What did you think?’

 ‘That it’s fine if I die.’

                A few wildlings including Jon’s friend Tormund tried to attack the men behind the shields. Tytos could not see clearly, but it seemed to him that he was pulled back by some of his men. The giant had managed to kill a few men but he had to step back too. Brienne carried on:

 ‘I would rather have you kill me though.’

 ‘Me? Why? I do not understand my Lady.’

 ‘Will you kill me when I ask you to?’

 ‘No! Why would I want to do that?’

 ‘I do not want to see them slowly approaching, and I would rather see the face of the man who kills me.’

 ‘But…’

 ‘Please. Tytos.’

 ‘Why me?’

                She did not answer and averted her gaze. He did not understand, and for a while the puzzling woman took his mind off his impending death. The closer the shields grew to them, the saner her request appeared to him. He finally said:

 ‘I will, at your signal. But tell me, why does it have to be me? You are not doing me a favour by asking me to do that. If I ever stood a chance in Heaven I will blow it by killing you.(

 ‘I did not take you for the kind of man who believed in Heaven.’

 ‘And you were right.’

                He smiled. Amongst death and blood, he was smiling. He added:

 ‘Are we having a casual conversation in the middle of a slaughter?’

 ‘We are, Lord Hill. And I want it to be you because you have his eyes, the eyes of the only true friend I have ever had. And it would make it easier if the last thing I saw before I died were his eyes.’

                She did not really need to explain. He frowned and nodded. Their conversation was over; the lances were only two men away from them. Brienne pleaded:

 ‘Please kill me.’

                He turned to her, took a dagger from his back and lifted it to her throat. Her face did not show any emotion, her eyes were only pleading. He could not even see fear.  

                Suddenly he heard the trampling of horses’ hooves on the ground. He turned around and saw that the shields had stopped closing on them. Spears fell to the ground, and he thought he saw swords above the line of their enemies. He took his dagger away from Brienne sword. The men around him were looking at the scene with a new hope in their eyes. At first Tytos had thought they could have been Bolton reinforcements, but now he understood that even if the riders who had just arrived were also enemies of the Boltons.

                Soon enough the whole wall of shields fell and the trapped men could see what had happened. Tytos saw blue banners flying above the riders, the banners of the Lords he had served for many years with Brynden Tully.

                He saw a man elbowing his way out of the crowd. It was Jon Snow. He went to meet with one of the riders. Men were starting to pour out of the trap they had been dying in. Tytos and Brienne followed them, slowly. Tytos could feel his body giving in. He could not have thought for his life a minute longer. He put his sword back in his scabbard; his arm was shaking from the weight of it. He tried his best not to trip on the corpses, but he did not have the courage at this time to look to the ground. When they finally reached a patch of dirty snow that was not covered in blood or flesh they started hearing cries of victory. Tytos did not have the strength to cheer with them, but instead fell to his knees and closed his eyes.

                _So it is over. I am not dead, I will not die today._ It did not matter who those riders were, not why they had come, he had survived this day, while many others had not.

                He spent what seemed to him to be an eternity lying on this unwelcoming ground, and when he heard some cries and opened his eyes. Brienne of Tarth was still next to him, looking towards Winterfell. Some men were crying:

 ‘To the castle! To Winterfell!’

                He stood up, Brienne pointed at the castle with her sword. A few of his men had rallied to his side too. He looked at each and every of them, and showed them the direction of the castle with his head. He took his sword, and started running as fast as he could, full of an unknown energy.              

                When they arrived at the gate they saw that it had been opened by force. The huge giant that fought with them was lying on the floor and Jon Snow was straddling a man on the floor. Tytos was pushed aside by two men from the Vale who were escorting Lady Sansa. She went to her brother who had now started punching the man in the face, and when he saw her he stopped almost immediately. He stood up, shared a glance with her and at the Lady’s order her escort took hold on the man on the floor that Tytos now identified as Ramsey Bolton and took him away. Jon turned to the dead giant. His face was covered with blood, but he did not look to be wounded. His men were now starting to swarm the yard, but he stood there.

                Tytos thought it was both the best and the worst moment to do it but he went up to his Commander, fell to his knee and placed his sword at his feet.

 ‘Jon Snow, I know I said I was at your service before, but please let me be your servant, for now and ever.’

                The young was truly lost. He barely looked at Tytos and said:

 ‘Very well. Rise now. Thank you.’

                He obeyed, and took the direction of the gate, followed by his men. He looked at the battlefield from the hill on which the castle was built. There were dead bodies everywhere. Men with stretchers had already begun touring the field. _My men. I need to take care of my men. And count the living…_ He shouted:

 ‘Follow me! Let us look after our brother in arms.’

                He started towards the field, and looked for his lion. He could not see him. His heart started racing faster. Instead, he saw Jon Snow’s huge white direwolf. The beast was sniffing a heap of corpses, horses and men. Tytos walked to the wolf that showed its teeth but did not threaten to attack him. The heap was as high as a tall man, from far one could only see blood and unidentified flesh but he made out a few pair of hooves, feet, a head and some grey fur underneath most of the bodies. Everything looked dead but Tytos had to make sure, and he started separating the bodies, checking their pulse every time he found a whole body. His men helped him, and soon they reached his lion. He needed four extra men to carry the animal away from the corpses. Tygett did not have any visible wounds, but he could not see any signs of life. As he kneeled beside the lion’s head his men left to see to other bodies.

                He tried finding a pulse in the best’s neck, breathing, but he did not find anything that could indicate that he was alive. He buried his gloveless hands into the animal’s thick fur he started growing since they had arrived in the North. All the energy he had gathered after the end of the battle left him as suddenly as it had arrived. He fell on the animal’s thick and soft neck. It had been a folly to let him fight, Snow had advised him not to, but he knew he would have followed him anywhere. He stayed there, conscious but unable to move.

 

                He could not remember what happened in detail. He just felt he was lifted on a stretcher carried by Stark men, and that when he entered the castle again the silver banners were covering the walls. He woke up in a rather big room packed with wounded men, his men. A maester was touring the beds. The wounds had been dressed, but blood still poured out of some of them. He forbade Tytos to leave the room yet, but the latter managed to make him promise to send for Brienne of Tarth if she was well.

                He fell asleep waiting, and opened his eyes to the huge blonde woman. A man in the room had started moaning with pain, and the maester and his assistants were moving around him. Tytos sat in his bed. Brienne looked at him, stone-faced. Tytos asked:

 ‘What news, Lady Brienne? How long have I been here?’

 ‘You have not been here long, merely half a day.’

 ‘Is it the morning?’

 ‘Yes, it is.’

 ‘And? What are the news?’

 ‘Lady Sansa and Jon Snow have fully taken control of the castle and Ramsey Bolton is dead. His house is dead.’

 ‘Have you had time to count the men?’

 ‘We do not believe that more than five hundred of our men survived.’

                Tytos was shocked. He should have expected it, but he felt these words digging their way through his mind with a cruelty he was not prepared for. He asked, fearing the answer:

 ‘And how many of my men have survived?’

 ‘Nothing is certain yet, many are still wounded…’

 ‘Please, tell me. Do not think it will do me any good to be spared the truth.’

 ‘Not more than fifty have survived. And that is being optimistic. Thirty would be a more realistic expectation.’

                The emptiness that had appeared after the news of the Blackfish’s death and the sight of his lifeless lion now seemed to have taken over his whole soul, and he found not words to say, his lips too heavy to move. Brienne was kind enough not to comment for a few minutes, and then, in unexpected display of compassion, she took his left hand in her own. He looked at her, his eyes full of gratitude. She tried:

 ‘I suspect you might be too cynical to appreciate what I am going to say but they died a glorious death, they fought for what was right and they won.’

 ‘Glorious death…’

 ‘Yes. Yours were good men. They were fighting for honour…’

 ‘What do you know about my men? What is honour?’

                She jerked back and released his hand. He looked down, ashamed, but did not think to apologise. She put her hands on her knees to stand up, and said before turning her back to him:

 ‘Commander Snow insisted on bringing Tygett inside the walls of the castle, and on providing him with a proper funeral of your choosing. I am sorry for your loss Tytos Hill, I truly am.’

                But before she could go too far from his bed he said:

 ‘Where will you go now?’

 ‘Wherever Lady Sansa wants me to go.’

                She stopped and asked:

 ‘Why are you asking me that?’

 ‘I failed them. I failed everyone. I sent them to their death; I knew they were going to die. And when they died I was too weak to take care of their bodies. I am not fit to serve anyone, my purpose is lost.’

                She clenched her jaw and said:

 ‘Your men served you, and they knew they were going to their death too, and they followed you. You have not lost your purpose, you have discovered it. You lead men, Tytos. Now, may I take my leave? I will ask the maester to let you go.’

 

                When he finally had the permission to leave the room Tytos found that he did not really have anywhere to go, and neither did he know his way around the castle. He wandered aimlessly in the corridors, choosing whichever direction appealed to him the most. He was lost; he had no-one to follow. He did walk past a few soldiers who either ignored him or stared at his clean breastplate. He had not had time to look at his face but he suspected it was still covered with blood. He finally reached a courtyard that was occupied by men from the Vale. He looked down at them from the top of the stairs, trying to single out some familiar faces, when he saw a homely brown haired man in a corner. He went to him, an honest smile on his lips:

 ‘Lord Donnel Waynwood!’

 ‘Tytos Hill!’

                He took him in a rough but warm embrace. The man had never been one for candid displays of affection, but Tytos could still read some affection in his behaviour. The thick-nosed man continued:

 ‘I saw some of your men that told me you were here but I would not believe them until I saw you with my own eyes. You are lucky to be alive! Have you been wounded that I have not seen you before?’

 ‘Not really my Lord, but I was confined to a room with the wounded for a day. I am only starting to discover the horrid number of casualties. Surely you have heard…’

 ‘Yes I have, unfortunately. I am very sorry for you, your men were good men. A good part of them was from our mountains, as was your lion. I will bring you another lion next time we see each other.’

                Tytos gave a hardly perceptible nod at this suggestion, and looked around at all those elegant knights in their shining armours. He asked:

 ‘Do you happen to know where my quarters are, if I have any?’

 ‘I know where your remaining men are, I suspect your quarters will be nearby. I have some time to spare, I can take you to them if you wish, and it would be my pleasure.’

 ‘Very well, thank you, my Lord. If you have even more time to spare would you be so kind as to accompany me for a walk in the Godswood?’

                Tytos did not even know why he had felt this sudden urge to visit the Godswood, he did not have faith in any gods, but as soon as he stepped into the holy place he felt something that told him he had made the right decision. He had been in Godswoods before, but none had made him the same impression. He felt surrounded, by what he did not exactly know what. They finally came by a Weirwood tree by a small pond, and Tytos sat on a rock by the tree. Donnel Waynwood imitated him and asked:

 ‘I did not think you kept the old Gods, Tytos Hill.’

 ‘I do not. Well, I did not. But the recent events pushed me here.’

                Donnel nodded, and kept quiet out of respect. Tytos had never prayed in his life before. They took him to the Sept when he was young, but he had never really prayed. He had only told himself stories in his head, waiting for the ceremonies to be over. He had heard somewhere that the cult for the Old Gods was less codified than the cult of the Seven, and he felt free to let his thoughts wander. _Wherever you are taking them, please look after my men, and after Tygett._ He tried to picture some of his men in his mind, no knowing if they were now dead or alive. He remembered the discussion he had had the night before the battle:

 ‘On the Eve of the battle I had a discussion with one of my men, Brynnan. He told me about his idea of the afterlife. I listened. Now I hope he is alive, because I am not sure I believed in his story.’

                His companion put his arm on his shoulders and apologised:

 ‘I am sorry we could not be here earlier. I heard about the Blackfish.’

                Suddenly Tytos is pulled out of his thoughts. He frowns and asks:

 ‘Why have you come in the first place?’

                It should have been the first question he asked, but his grief had taken too much space in his head for rational thought. Donnel squirmed on his rock and answered with a half-smile:

 ‘I want to be honest with you, but you have to promise me you will not talk about it with anyone else. I trust we are alone in those woods.’

                His curiosity aroused, the bastard gave him his word. The Lord continued:

 ‘There are some things happening in the Vale. No-one really knows what, but that Petyr Baelish seems to have stirred our land and the Arryn dynasty is now lead by the sickly boy, Robert Arryn. Surely you remember him.’

 ‘I do. But does he not have a regent?’

 ‘He does. That same Petyr Baelish had declared himself Lord Protector of the realm. You must have heard that he had married the Lady Lysa right before she died.’

 ‘I have heard, but I had not really thought it through. All of this sounds very odd indeed. But that does not explain why you all came here.’

 ‘Not yet, let me finish! When Lord Baelish came to the Vale to marry Lady Arryn he brought with him a young woman he claimed was his bastard daughter, but it was an open secret amongst the Lords that this woman was actually someone much more important. Now it seems very clear that that woman was Lady Sansa Stark. A month ago or so we received an order from Lord Royce to join the forces at the Bloody Gate, and here we are.’

 ‘So it all comes down to the connection between Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. That man has a strange relationship with everyone in the Tully family. I have never met him before but the Blackfish used to talk about him, about how infatuated with his niece Catelyn he was. He used to confide in him when he was a boy.’

 ‘There is something behind all this for sure. I am made very uneasy by all this scheming; I hope I can soon go back to my duty at the Bloody Gate.’

                Tytos felt his throat tighten at the evocation of his former duty. He could very well understand why Lord Donnel longed to go back there, it was simple. Your job was to keep a gate and follow orders. He did not want to keep his friend too long and asked him to take him to his quarters.


	6. Brienne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King in the North!

The relief she enjoyed after the battle was short. When the wounded had been taken care of she had been to Sansa Stark, and reminded her she was at her service and that she would do whatever she asked of her. The Lady answered that she was free to do whatever she wanted for now, but that she would soon be needing her. When she asked what her ladyship had in mind the latter dismissed her saying she had to be somewhere else. Although she did not follow her around she gathered that she was often meeting with Petyr Baelish. She had got this information from Pod who had seen them together in the Godswood. Brienne was not happy about it, but she had already warned her Lady that it was unwise to trust this man, and she had assured her she did not trust him. She tried her best not to worry about it, Sansa was an intelligent young woman, and she would not trust the man who had given her to Ramsay Bolton.

                Her quarters were in the part of the castle that had was dedicated to housing what remained of Tytos Hill’s forces, but their Commander was still in bed with the other wounded men. Not that they needed a Commander just now, they were indeed to busy mourning their fallen friends to take part in any activity that would have been useful to the life of the castle. Brienne herself felt rather useless; as she seemed to be now considered as one of these men. _Northmen are rather gregarious creatures, they keep to themselves and we are not welcome to meddle in their affairs._ While Hill’s men and the Valemen get along rather well, she had not seen any of them interacting with Northmen, let along the few remaining Wildlings. Pod and she kept to themselves. She had sparred with him in the morning and in the evening, and went to pay a visit to Tytos Hill when he called on her. He took the news of the high number of casualties as she expected he would. When she looked at him on his bed she almost felt that he was an old friend of hers, while she had only met him recently and he was hardly a friend to her. He did show some respect to her, but he was not the kind of man who had friends, it seemed to her. She left his company when it appeared that nothing she could say would soothe him. After that she did not see him for three days.

                On the third day she saw a lone horse leaving Winterfell. She wondered who it could be for a moment, and then made out the red colour of her hair and clothes against the white snow. She watched her go for a moment, until it seemed that she was not coming back. It was such a happy sight, she wanted to share it with someone, but realised that no-one in the castle would share her joy at the red woman going. Or at least, not for the same reasons. She had heard that Davos Seaworth had survived the battle, but had not met him since. She had felt a sort of tension between the two, although they had both served Stannis. She thought he might be the only person in the castle sharing her enthusiasm, and in the heat of the moment, she decided to look for him. She asked for him everywhere, but finally found him walking around the main courtyard with a wooden toy in his hands. She went up to him:

 ‘Ser Davos, I am glad to see that you survived that terrible battle.’

 ‘Lady Brienne, and me that you have survived.’

                He said those words machinally, he was only paying attention to the toy in his hands. From where she was now she saw that it was it wooden stag. She frowned and asked:

 ‘I hope you will forgive me for being so inquisitive, but I saw the red woman going this morning and I wondered if you knew the reason behind her going.’

                The man finally lifted his eyes from his object and looked at her, seemingly eager to answer her question but looking for the best way to convince her of what he was about to say.

 ‘She murdered a little girl. Or worse, she had her burnt alive. I know you bear no love to Stannis, but this was his little girl, an innocent and good child. And she burnt her alive.’

                Brienne had to work very hard not to let her jaw drop. She had been horrified at Renly’s death, and thought Stannis an evil man, but this was beyond all her expectations of cruelty. Ser Davos was still holding his gaze, obviously waiting for her to say something, but she could not. Instead, she asked, her voice trembling:

 ‘Will she stay away for good?’

 ‘I do not know. Jon Snow has asked her to choose between going or dying. She chose to go, and if she comes back she will die. I would have liked her to die…’

                As he said those words he held the little stag tighter with his short fingers, fighting some emotions. He added, still under the power of his feelings:

 ‘I do not know you, Brienne of Tarth. I know that we fought for opposite camps, and that you loved Renly dearly, but we both despise that woman equally, because she killed people we loved. I know you killed the man I believed in, but in the end I know he agreed to the torture of his girl, so let us be friends now.’

                All her rational thoughts had been swept aside by the man’s sorrow, and she shook the hand he offered her, the hand with the longer fingers.

                Still shaken by her encounter with Davos Seaworth she met Tytos Hill on her way to her quarters. At first she hoped he would not hold her back too long for she needed some rest but she regretted having wished that when the only thing he told her was:

 ‘Your Lady Sansa and Jon Snow have called all their bannermen and allies to the great hall. You are also invited to join them tonight.’

                She did not even have time to answer, he was gone. He was very much like Jaime Lannister in his moments of distress, and she thought back to his eyes before the battle began. At the time she did not consciously make the link between both men, but it was now obvious. They had the exact same eyes. They used them to convey different emotions, but Tytos’s determination before throwing his horse into the battle was the same as Jaime’s when he had jumped into that bear pit at Harrenhal. Both had attempted something desperate, and both had survived and succeeded. Yet both had lost something too. For a moment the sympathy she felt for Tytos seemed identical to the one she bore for Jaime, but she had to remind herself again that she did not know the bastard, and that it was only his few similarities with the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard that made her feel that way.

                In the evening she made her way to the great hall, wearing her armour as she expected the bannermen would too. No-one knew what to expect of the near future but the war was definitely not over, and it was certainly going to be more of a war council than a friendly discussion.

                The great hall was indeed crowded with men in their war attire, save for Lady Sansa and the young Lyanna Mormont who was sitting in front of group of Commanders from Bear Island. Brienne was surprised to see some houses that did not take part in the battle gathered here too. There were an impressive number of wildlings, including Tormund Giantsbane, Jon Snow’s friend, and Ser Davos was surprisingly close to them. She spied one of Tytos Hill’s captains not far from them, but not the man himself. She greeted him formally and sat next to him amongst Valemen. Jon Snow and Sansa Stark were sitting at the high table, looking grave. There was a great noise in the room and they could not hear any of the various discussions going on in the room. The big Lord sitting on the Vale side of the room sat down and the room finally fell silent. A knight form the Vale Brienne thought to be Yohn Royce stood up and shouted:

 ‘You cannot expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders!’

                He looked around, satisfied at his men’s grunts of approval. Tormund who was sitting on the window still answered casually:

 ‘We didn't invade, we were invited…’

 ‘Not by me,’ answered the old man who then sat down.

                He did not even need to look at Jon Snow, but everyone else did. The latter stood up and argued, looking their way:

 ‘The free folk, the northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield.’        

              He insisted on his last word, and this no doubt stirred a few consciences from those who were too afraid to join him. From the tone in the beginning of this more official conversation Brienne feared the worst, as everyone had certainly done. Jon was trying to unite men from at least two different realms with those they despised as “wildlings”. They all had a very different history; some had suffered more than others in these recent years and had understood the necessity of alliances with other factions they would never have tolerated before. Brienne flinched at the realisation that the confrontation had arrived and she feared for the young bastard from the North, so much that she wanted to flee the room. This could not end well, the tension was too high. She was trying to think of an excuse to leave, when someone sat behind her at the table. She turned round and she was given one of Tytos’s smug smiles. She scolded, whispering, trying to alleviate the tension:

 ‘You are late!’

 ‘Have I missed something?’

 ‘Not yet.’

                She turned back to face the dais, just in time to see one of those Lords with a guilty conscience rising to defend himself:

 ‘The Boltons are defeated, the war is over, and winter has come. If the maesters are right, it will be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms.’

                _You fool, even I would have argued better._ But then he was a young Lord, probably put in charge at his predecessor’s early death, although he was not younger than Jon Snow. The latter had a simple answer:

 ‘The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm.’

                This brought a general convulsion in the room, and everyone was starting to whisper again. Brienne felt a light hand on her shoulder and she turned around to find Tytos smirking at the confusion:

 ‘He cannot be serious, can he?’

                She almost started chastising him for his cockiness but remembered that he was a southerner like her, and that in the South people told jokes about the northerners and what they called their “beliefs”. She had to admit that she did not really believe in any of this before she met with the men from the Night’s Watch. She decided she would have this talk with Tytos later. If he was not too stupid he would have understood not to joke about it too loud.

                Young Lady Lyanna Mormont broke the low conversations and started:

 ‘Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refused the call. But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day.’

                Brienne had chills running down her back at this powerful speech. All the other Lords, grey-haired, young, grave or proud were speechless. They did not look like they knew what to say after that, but Brienne was grateful she could enjoy the Lady of Bear Island’s spirit a little while longer. She had not been in their realm for a long time, but she could feel the whole spirit of the North in those words: the harshness of their lives, but also their sheer determination and loyalty. _I was born on the wrong island_ , thought Brienne. She had heard of Lyanna’s mother and sisters, how they fought alongside the men from the island. Now all the men in the room respected her. The big Lord who had tried to speak before Lord Royce before now started:

 ‘Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I did not think we would find another king in my lifetime. I did not commit my men to your cause because I did not want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong, Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the White Wolf. The King in the North!’

                To these words he drew his sword and fell to his knee before the high table. The men around started talking. Brienne now noticed Petyr Baelish in a corner opposite her, his eyes scanning the room. He was in the dark, where he thought he would not attract attention. When she turned around to look at the men’s reaction she saw that Tytos was looking at him too, trying to keep a straight face but obviously intrigued by the man’s presence far from the Valemen and behaviour. Lord Glover rose and looked at Jon Snow:

 ‘I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness.’

 ‘There's nothing to forgive, my lord,’ said the young Commander.

 ‘There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years.’

                Lord Glover drew his sword, and carried on:

 ‘And I will stand behind Jon Snow, the King in the North!’

                As he fell to his knee, men all around the room were brandishing their swords, chanting:

 ‘The King in the North!’

 ‘The King in the North!’

                Overcome by emotions and a feeling of loyalty she could not escape, Brienne imitated them, saw that Tytos Hill, his captain Kyorin Hill and Ser Davos had followed too. Jon Snow rose from his chair, looking at first like he did not know what to do and questioning his sister. Brienne kept her eyes on her as she was chanting, and saw her look to Petyr Baelish as soon as her brother had turned to face his subjects. The look brought her back to her spirits, and while she carried on chanting the warm feeling that had inhabited her before was spoiled by Littlefinger’s half smile to her Lady.


	7. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's first chapter!  
> (please bear with the slight Jaime/Cersei, I swear it will be over soon)

 ‘You will go North at the head of our army and take back Winterfell from those traitors. Do you hear me? Northmen have been laughing at us for too long, they do not seem to remember they are part of my Kingdoms and that they should obey me! Father was a fool to trust those Boltons, father and son. Now that bastard has Wildlings fighting for him, can you believe that? And have you heard that even that little shit of Robert Arryn has rallied behind him? We have given our vassals too many liberties for too long. When you are done dealing with the North you must go to the Vale remind them who rules the Seven Kingdoms.’

                _I do no think they know or care who rules in King’s Landing dear sister._ Jaime was standing in front of his sister in her chambers, still wearing his full armour, save for the helmet. She had a glass of wine in her hand and her new crown was still on her head. When she had asked him to follow him he had obeyed in silence. She had not asked about his time in the Riverlands, and he had not asked about the recent events in King’s Landing. She probably knew everything already and he had heard enough. _Whatever might have happened it did not justify the murder of all these people._ He kept repeating this to himself, but he was still unable to think clearly. He was full of rage, of grief, and of disappointment. He was trying his best to control his impulses, he knew they were wrong. He wanted blood, he wanted to kill someone, but he did not exactly know whom, why or how. He desperately needed some time to think, but right now he had to endure his sister’s jabbering a little while longer. He listened, but he did not hear. She was shouting at him, ordering him to go here and there to “kill their enemies”, but he did not really know. Only her last sentence had woken him up from his concentration effort, when he thought again that his sister was now officially ruling the Seven Kingdoms. And now that he had brought the Riverlands back under her yoke it seemed two other Kingdoms were to be dealt with.

 ‘When you find that little worm Sansa Stark, bring her to me alive, I want to take care of her myself. She is the reason behind all that I am sure. You have seen the bastard as I have, he would not have led a battle to regain some castle he had no claim to. And how why would their thick Lords have rallied behind him? He is no one! They will all know what it costs to stand up to the crown.’

                _Will they?_ Jaime was now listening to her torrent of rage, looking her in the eyes. _What happened to her? Was I so blind? I do not know her, or do I?_ She stopped her pacing and frowned, probably realising his thoughts were elsewhere, or noticing the absence of any signs of approval. He cocked her head and asked:

 ‘Do you not agree Jaime? I do not think now that I have heard a single word come out of your mouth since you arrived. What happened in the Riverlands that you do not know how to speak anymore?’

                Jaime cocked his head too, certainly looking very much like her at that moment, and felt a burning ball of rage devastating his insides. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak indeed. His sister smiled and said with a low voice, almost like she was talking to a child:

 ‘Well if you have become mute I shall let you rest for a while and talk to cousin Daven. I heard he came back here with you, maybe he still has the ability to speak. I trust I will find you here when I return.’

                He was looking straight ahead of him and did not even turn when she brushed past him and lightly touched his shoulder with her hand. When the door had closed behind her he went to sit on a chair on her balcony, and looked at the city. The sun was starting to set and the light as very peculiar, almost like the sun was breathing fire onto the city. Looking at it in the sky Jaime remembered something his brother Tyrion had told him he had read in an old book written by some Valyrian man that the sun was in fact a huge ball of fire. Jaime had laughed at it at the time, but now that he looked at it now he would have given anything to hear more about this theory. _What is it with fire that so many people close to me cannot seem to get enough of it?_

                 He looked at the desolate scene of what used to be the Sept of Baelor. He wondered if Cersei had had it all planned before he went or if it was an idea she had had later, but concluded that he did not even want to know the answer, because he was unable to decide what he would have done had she shared her plans with him. He did not know if she would have even wanted to share her plans with him, she would have probably guessed he would have been against it. _I may be a Kingslayer or whatever they call me, I may have pushed a child out of a window but I do not massacre people indiscriminately._ _And she killed her own son!_

                When Cersei returned to her room she found him still on the balcony, lost in his thoughts. The time she had granted him had allowed him to be calmer and to think more clearly, but he still had no idea what he should do next. She joined him on the balcony, but did not take a chair too close to him. She started:

 ‘Cousin Daven told me about your encounter with that great cow you like so much. Not as much as she likes I have to give you that…’

                When she saw that Jaime was not going to answer anything she carried on:

 ‘So you let four hundred men escape and join the bastard? I am surprised you did not go North yourself.’

                At this Jaime turned his head. She had threats in her voice and in her eyes. He answered, very dryly.

 ‘Four hundred men did not make any difference in the North. They might have had made a difference had I decided to storm Riverrun.’

 ‘But you did not. You let them live. How very generous of you.’

 ‘You will be happy I did not lose men at this stupid siege when you want to fight half the realm for your throne.’

                She gave him one of her little smiles that meant she did not approve completely but would let it go. She went on to another subject:

 ‘Daven told me about the leader of these four hundred men. He told me he was ridding a big grey cat when he came out of the castle and that he waved a banner very similar to ours. How ridiculous…’

                Jaime clenched his jaw at the thought of the man he had not thought about since he last saw him. But Cersei did not let it go:

 ‘Our dear cousin also told me the man looked a lot like yourself, but maybe younger. And without that ridiculous beard you are sporting now. You should shave it off as soon as you can.’

 ‘What is your point dear sister?’

 ‘Do you know that man? Who is he? Daven said his name was Tytos Hill. Is he trying to usurp our family name?’

 ‘The man was wearing Tully armour, believe me he does not care for the likes of us, and he’s probably dead rotting in the snow with his pet if you want my opinion.’

                Jaime knew his last sentence to be a lie but wanted to put an end to that pointless conversation. Cersei was trying everything she could to make him talk more:

 ‘Do you know the bastard styled himself King in the North? At least Robb Stark had a real army… Northmen are really without any idea what laws are, as if a bastard could be King.’

 ‘Yes, you are right. Laws are probably the reason why you killed our son.’

                There she froze for a moment, and then relaxed on her chair, sure of herself:

 ‘I did not kill him.’

 ‘Did you not? Did the Sept blow up by accident then?’

 ‘Tommen was nowhere near the Sept.’

                Jaime raised his head and looked her in the eyes, hopeful that things might be better than they seemed for the first time since he arrived. His sister suddenly looked wonderful, and he realised he had not properly looked at her since he had arrived. He had looked at her dreadful crown, at her smiles and at her eyes full of hatred, but not at her. He silently prayed to whatever Gods that she had nothing to do with the King’s death:

 ‘Where was he? How did he die?’

 ‘He was in his room, and from the look of it it seems he fell from his window. He was found dead on the street below. The Mountain was guarding his door and he was alone in his chambers, so we concluded that it was either an accident or that he jumped.’

                The horror of the child’s death was made more bearable by the thought that his sister might not have gone mad in the end, that he had been wrong to assume the worst of her. She must have seen it in his eyes for she drew her chair closer to him and took his hand in hers. He was still slightly hesitant to take it at first, but he was not long to accept it out of relief. Of course she had still killed hundreds of innocent people, but it was certainly the price to pay for the High Sparrow’s head. And that of his followers. _It was only collateral damage_ , he thought. His sister carried on:

 ‘You will avenge his death by taking back what was his, and killing those who defied him.’

                She leaned in for a kiss, and he remembered all these moments in the Riverlands when all he could have thought of was the feeling of her lips on his. She whispered:

 ‘I missed you…’

                She took his arm and led him inside.

 

                It seemed King’s Landing did not want him to stay. Every time he came home he was sent away within the next year, and this time he had only stayed a night. Not that he minded, the city was a hive of deadly insects, all of them ready to jump at each other’s throat. But he had heard a few complaints from his soldiers in passing. It was a great luck the siege of Riverrun had not lasted years as it would have had Jaime opted for the strategy to starve them out, or his bannermen would have started turning on him. It was a delicate matter to keep the men away for too long, as Robb Stark had understood when it cost him his life. Jaime had only had his men told that they were going to Winterfell, and said nothing of the Vale. Not that they would still be alive to go there. He had blindly followed orders, and tried not to think too much of the consequences. In truth he did not really care. He felt that everything he had known had fallen and disappeared. The only thing that was left was his sister, and he was not even sure she was entirely the same person. But it was the only thing he could still hang on to, so was trying to. He had no idea what would happen if he could ever re-take Winterfell. No-one in his camp could ever rule the North. They had no allies left there. The Boltons were all dead, and the rest of the Karstarks and Umbers was nowhere to be found. _Probably freezing their balls off in a cave somewhere, far from the likes of Jon Snow._

                Now that he was far from Cersei, at least a month’s ride away from her, he did not remember why he had agreed to go. But it was clear to him he had not wanted to stay either. Instead he tried to recall all his memories of Winterfell, thinking of a way to trick his enemies. There was no way he would win the battle. To lead a siege you needed at the very least twice the number of men that were holding the castle, and Jaime had only one fifth of the men at Winterfell. _You are a fool, Jaime Lannister, she wants you to die._ He knew it, and he had tried his best to hide it from his men, but he knew the news would break out soon. Or was she too lost in her madness to see that he was doomed? He tried to believe it.

                The walk was long, but he did not see the days. They were all the same, and in the end they went pretty fast. Every day at night he would spar with Bronn, still hoping that he could defeat a ten year old squire should any come at him to kill him, but he did not seem to get better. Or if he did it was painfully slow. In the end the two month’s ride north was not a bad thing.

                One evening Bronn joined him in his tent. He brought wine, of course. Jaime had a glass, but it did not have any effect on him. After a long monologue by Bronn ranting about his dream castle and lovely lady wife, not followed by any comments by Jaime, the former sellsword struck a blow:

 ‘You know m’Lord, everyone knows we have been sent on a suicide mission. Aye, I know it too, and believe me, when the battle comes if I see we are losing, as I expect we will I’m running away. I’m not dying for your pretty eyes. And I’m not dying for your sister’s pretty eyes. There is only one thing I don’t know, and I’d be grateful if you could answer. Why have you accepted to lead us up there to freeze our asses off and die and probably make some wildling very happy for dinner?’

                Jaime lifted his eyes from his cup and tried his best:

 ‘What would you have me do Bronn? You are so clever you would have probably thought of something, but my stupid brain and I could not.’

 ‘Let us all go home! Let us all go home, and you go anywhere you want to be. I know where I’ll be…’

 ‘Cersei would have your head.’

 ‘She could bloody well try! My head is very good at staying on my shoulders, trust me.’

 ‘I am a warrior, I fight for people. I fight for causes. And my family is my cause.’

 ‘Your lover, better.’

                Jaime turned black eyes to him, more out of habit than out of real anger. He finally answered:

 ‘I cannot live like you. I am not the one to live and die in a castle. I have been stuck in the Red Keep or most of my life, and now all I want is to be away from it.’

 ‘You don’t need to live in a castle; you could take up farming…’

                He smiled at this, but did not need to answer. The Kingslayer turned farmer… Who would ever believe it? No, there was nothing else in life for him than dying with his sword in his hand, and Bronn knew it. He carried on with his japes:

 ‘You could even get yourself a wife! She wouldn’t need to know who you are, you just come to her for warmth in the evening and that’s all! It would be easy for you.’

 ‘I do not want any of that.’

                Bronn pouted and finished his glass, then turned to Jaime’s flagon that had been left almost untouched. He hesitated, but after a sip of his new glass he asked:

 ‘I hope m’Lord will not be displeased with me asking, but since we are here making small talk, why not make it interesting? As a Kingsguard you were not allowed to be with woman, but obviously you were…’

                Jaime did not even bother saying nor doing anything, instead, he let Bronn continue:

 ‘So, my question is, have you ever been with any other woman? ‘

 ‘I have no, and I have no wish to be.’

 ‘Not even with your big warrior woman, Brienne of Tarth? I reckon that she is not truly a beauty, but gods she is a special woman…’

                This time Jaime gave Bronn the black look. The latter cocked his head and laid back on his chair, spreading his legs:

 ‘I thought you’d have already fucked her, but there you are, I was wrong. For how long though…’

 ‘And why would you think that?’

 ‘Well, the way she looks at you, for a start… Seven hells, when she saw you in the Riverlands you’d have thought she had suddenly been named Queen of the world and…’

 ‘Wait! I don’t even want to know what you think. In fact I’d like you to leave now.’

                His general smiled, shrugged and stood up but said before he left the tent:

 ‘Seems I hit a raw nerve! Goodnight, Ser Jaime…’

                Jaime did not even know why he had sent him away; he had merely felt like it. Remembering that Brienne existed somewhere in the world had given him one of those short-lived moments of liveliness he rarely experienced these days. One of these moments when you feel enthusiastic for something to come, but cannot really make out what that thing is. The feeling was gone now, but it had left traces. He did not consider Brienne to be part of these things that made his life, or at least, not his life from _before._ Before he was captured and broken down. Before he fell asleep that night he had the wildest thought that she could be part of a new life.


	8. Tytos IV

It had taken him two weeks but Tytos had finally regained his moral and physical strength. Not that he had a choice anyway. Jon Snow was King in the North, but despite the early enthusiasm no one was confident. The King himself only talked about a threat from beyond the wall, but Tytos was more worried about the political situation of the Vale and what it meant for the newly organised North. The southern bastard, as he heard many people call him now did not know how long the Valemen had agreed to stay, but he knew Petyr Baelish had met with the King four times since the great meeting in the hall. Nothing of what they had talked about had seemed to have left the room however, except maybe for Lady Sansa.

                When walking around the castle Tytos was very careful to listen to every conversation, looking for clues and rumours of everything that was happening. He did not want to ask anyone directly, save his own generals. After all, he had agreed to go North under the condition that he would be a mere military tool, a band of missionaries almost, without any say in the decision making process. They might have included him, had he had more military power, but he was insignificant. In the meantime he had worked to gather what was left of his faction and re-organise it, as most of his generals had died. It had not taken a long time, forty men were easily commanded. He took Kyorin Hill as his main advisor, and appointed Jon Waters and Jonos Hill at the head of about twenty men each. He was less enthusiastic about the latter, having a sort of mistrust for him but he was well-liked and many young men saw in him a father figure. The only thing Tytos saw in him was a grumpy old man trying to fashion his behaviour after the Blackfish, but everyone except him and maybe a handful of men perfectly knew there could never be another Blackfish. The old fat man even claimed he had been a trueborn son in a noble family of the Westerlands, but that his brother had him thrown out for refusing to marry the Lady of his choosing. Tytos had once heard a soldier tell tales of Jonos that claimed the black lion had been his idea of a personal sigil before his Commander’s. Despite this he was very loyal to him in every way, and there were no real reasons why he would not have appointed him in the end.

                More than a month after the battle, a small man wearing fish-scaled armour went intercepted him as he was on his way to the room where they kept the wounded. The man was panting, and had seemingly run to catch him. At first Tytos did not notice the oddness of the situation, but when the man started talking he realised that he and his Tully armour had nothing to do here. His message was:

 ‘The King calls for you at once. It is very urgent, he says. He has called all his generals.’

 ‘Where?’

 ‘Follow me, my Lord.’

                He feared the worst and was immediately on the man’s heels. At least he had called Jon Snow the King, so he had not been overthrown. And he was still alive. While Tytos’s goal was to get to Snow as quick as possible the man slowed down and started talking to him:

 ‘The King has allowed me to ask you if I could join your men. You see, I do not think I belong with the Northmen…’

 ‘Who are you? I think I have already seen you somewhere, but you are definitely not one of my men.’

 ‘My name is Lartel, I am one of the Blackfish’s men. I was sent North to deliver the message that Riverrun had been surrendered before the Lannisters entered.’

 ‘And where are you from, Lartel?’

 ‘I was born in Harroway, but I spent most of my life in High Heart.’

 ‘Very well, Lartel… Of course you can join; you are very welcome to do so. We are all very sorry about the Lord Tully’s death.’

 ‘We are, my Lord.’

 ‘I am not a Lord.’

 ‘Oh yes sorry, I just said it out of habit. You surely have the looks of a Lord.’

 ‘Then I do not see the same person in the mirror!’

                The man smiled, and eventually sped up to the great hall. When Tytos saw where he was leading him he thought it might be one of these big reunions he had previously been invited to, but it was not. Lartel left him at the door and inside there was only the King, the Princess, the Lords Baelish, Royce, Manderly, Glover and Ladies Mormont and Tarth.  Brienne was sitting behind Sansa at the high table, next to the King, but the others were standing in front of the table. It was clear now that she was only here as a bodyguard, and not to be consulted. Tytos himself wondered why he had been invited to join all these noble men and women. He was not even wearing any armour, while others were. His sword was the only indication that he might have a part to play in military matters, and that only as a simple soldier. When he arrived to stand next to the others Jon finally started:

 ‘I see that you are all here. We have got key information from one of our scouts south from here. I will ask that you do not share any information with your men as long as we have not reached a decision, as I fear we might not have come the end of this council. Most of you must have heard of the latest events in the South.’

                Most of them indeed nodded, knowingly. Tytos felt like an outsider, not for the first time. Jon Snow carried on:

 ‘King Tommen is dead, and Cersei Lannister now sits on the Iron Throne. That is certain. Some say that she had the great Sept explode with wildfire while many were inside, including Queen Margery, Loras and Mace Tyrell. The south is certainly going to be in great turmoil.’

 ‘Yes but what do we care about what happens in the south?’ remarked Lord Manderly.

 ‘That does not matter as much as what we have just learnt. A Lannister army is marching north, probably with the intention of taking Winterfell and our Kingdom from us.’

                The hall fell silent for a moment, but then Lord Royce spoke up:

 ‘If that is true then the knights of the Vale must go back to the Vale! The Lannisters will not leave our new alliance unpunished, and we would better go back to defend out land.’

                The King looked at him gravely, but did not object. He must have anticipated this reaction. Petyr Baelish straightened up and asked, making sure he articulated his words well and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear him:

 ‘How many men in this Lannister army?’

 ‘Our scouts say no more than a thousand.’

                Relief was palpable in the room, but Jon Snow would not let it settle in comfortably:

 ‘We could easily defeat them of course, but then how? We can either wait during a siege, and with winter coming they will probably die way before we do, but that could take some time, time we could spend preparing for that same winter, or we could meet them in the field to take care of that quickly but risk losing men precious for the real fight to come. We will defeat them, but we have to think of our situation in the long run. That is why I asked you here, you lead the men we currently have and I cannot make a decision without you.’

                As they were all nodding Tytos felt he had to speak up:

 ‘Why did you invite men to join? I command a ridiculously small amount of men and my rank is even lower than the Princess’s bodyguard. I am not even a knight.’

 ‘We do not care much for these titles in the North, you are a true southerner if you believe that we see a man’s worth depending on whether some Lord hit him on the shoulder with a sword. And for that matter I am sure many men have hit you with their swords before,’ answered Lyanna Mormont.

                Tytos took a moment to think about her words, but the King gave him a real answer:

 ‘I will be honest with you, Tytos Hill. Although you seem to me to be a decent man I invited you here because it seems the men coming for us are the same that laid siege to Riverrun while you were there. It might be of no importance but I felt I should have you here, just in case you had some information as to whom we are facing.’

 ‘Well, I can think of one thing that can be useful to you. If they are indeed the same army then they are led by Jaime Lannister. As you know he tricked the Rivermen into surrendering the castle, although the siege might have lasted years. He could trick you too. We might have a larger army for now but we must not act as if everything is done, and a siege is a good place for tricks.’

                The Lords present in the room had all turned to him, as it was the first time they had really heard his voice. He doubted many of them even knew who he was. Now they did. Jon Snow nodded and thanked him for his advice:

 ‘Thank you, I see that I was not wrong in calling you. So I gather you would advise against waiting for a siege to happen?’

 ‘I would, Your Grace,’ answered Tytos, remembering his standard polite form of address.

                The King turned to the Lords in the room who all looked eager to share their opinion, but Lord Royce was the quickest to speak:

 ‘I do not think that siege would last longer than a year, but that does not change anything, we need back to the Vale as soon as we can. And I do not think Lord Baelish will object anything to that.’

                Baelish gave him a half smile, slightly nodded, and commented:

 ‘I agree completely, this news also brings the news that the Vale is threatened, and we must defend it at all costs. I do not believe your scouts could even say for sure that they are headed to Winterfell. As our friend here said, Jaime Lannister is a cunning man. You say there are only a thousand men, but what if he had divided his army as a ruse? We must go. In fact I was going to ask if we might go next week.’

                At these last words he looked to Yohn Royce for approval, which he got. While Jon Snow was able to hide his worry behind his stern face, his sister was not. She had got paler by the second. Snow said, barely moving his lips but making himself heard:

 ‘If you leave we are down to a thousand men, that is not enough to meet the Lannisters in open field, and useless to defeat our real enemy. Surely you do not mean to leave before you have helped us.’

 ‘But we have helped you, Your Grace,’ answered Baelish, as calm as the King.

                Everyone fell silent again. Tytos noticed Lady Brienne had not moved since the beginning of the talks. Not even her faced had changed. Snow was looking at Lyanna Mormont, his face keeping his usual expression, but Hill knew that he was hoping for one of her stirring speeches, but he also knew that the young Lady was from the North, that her speeches would not be as efficient when addressed to Valemen. She was the North, and she was proud, but the North needed help. Tytos tried:

 ‘And if you go then that all goes to waste, because we will not hold what your knights fought for for long. Don’t you see that the Lannisters are deperate? There is no way Cersei Lannister will stay on the throne for long. If indeed she killed the three Tyrell heirs then the Reach will turn against her. I do not know what is happening in Dorne, but my money is on plotting against the Iron Throne. The Riverlands are bled out, and so is the army from the Westerlands, thanks to your brother, my King. If the Vale and the North are together we can finish whatever is left of the Lannisters. We kill Jaime, Tywin Lannister’s heir and then his sister will be truly alone, but not for long because I do not think she will be allowed to live long. If you stay with us for a little while longer we can defeat them in the field without too much damage and then we can all go home.’

                The King kept staring at him for a moment, surely disapproving of something in his message, but approving of too much to contradict him. This time Yohn Royce did not rush to object, but Baelish looked as sure of himself as before:

 ‘And what is there for us to win in this? As you said yourself, the south will destroy the south, and we will not have anything to do for it to happen.’

 ‘Have you missed the part where Jaime Lannister was marching on Winterfell?’ argued Tytos, irritation in his voice.

 ‘Surely the brave men of the North can take care of that,’ answered Littlefinger.

                Lord Royce nodded, pursing his lips and straightening up, grateful that his companion had spoken before him. When Tytos looked at Baelish, he could not help but seeing him as a big slimy worm squirming his way out of everything that was requested of him. His anger was building, quickly taking over his whole body, and while he was more or less able to control his mouth his legs moved towards the small man until he could feel his breath on his neck. There was a sudden smell of mint. The man did not seem to give off any heat, he was cold. Tytos looked him in the eyes for a while, and then started:

 ‘Tell me, Lord Baelish, why exactly did you come here in the first place?’

                He would have to do more to unsettle him. The small man first looked at the Princess, and Tytos followed his gaze. While she had managed to keep a straight face, her bodyguard had not, or not so well. The two Northmen at the table were obviously waiting for the confrontation to be over, not wishing to interfere, but there was a movement on the big woman’s throat. Was it from heavy breathing, a pounding heart or deglutition problem the southern bastard did not know, but she sure did look shaken. When Baelish aimed his gaze at Yohn Royce Tytos interfered:

 ‘There is no need to keep looking at your puppets, we all know here that you led them here, one way or another. Now, why would you like to ruin all that work now and scurry back to your mountains? What did you have to gain that you did not? You see, I think that you…’

 ‘Enough! You take a step back Tytos Hill, and we will discuss this without any violence!’ Jon Snow intervened.

                He obeyed, but did not lift his gaze from Baelish who turned back to face the high table:

 ‘But Tytos Hill here is right; we would be throwing away the work of the men who died a month ago. I am sure we can stay a little while longer.’

 ‘Lord Baelish, surely we…’ protested Lord Royce, opening wide eyes.

 ‘I am sure we can spare three thousand men for a little while, Lord Royce, with all the men left in the Vale. You can even lead the retreating part of our army if you want to, and leave some men of trust to lead the attack.’

                The big Lord was speechless.

 ‘Or we can ask for Lord Arryn opinion on this matter,’ Baelish drove home, and it worked.

 ‘No, of course we will leave three thousand men to defeat the Lannisters,’ said Royce.

                A half smile appeared on the Princess’s face after this exchange between the two men, a smile her brother could not see. He was impatient to secure the men:

 ‘So it is settled then?’

 ‘I think it is, Your Grace. I still need to think about which ones I will leave here, and about the Commanders I will choose,’ assured the big Vale Lord.

                The Northern Lords that had remained quiet until then spoke up:

 ‘Thank you for your generosity, Lord Royce. You know we hold you and your knights in our debt,’ said Lord Glover.

                The others addressed similar messages, and they were soon invited to leave, the King not wanting the deal they had extorted from the Vale Lords withdrawn because of any second thoughts. It was agreed that they had until nightfall to make a decision concerning the remaining forces, since they were to march south on the morning two days from now and provisions needed to be prepared. When it was time to go the King asked Tytos to remain with he and his sister a little longer. The two Lords from the Vale cast suspicious glances on him before disappearing in the corridor.

 ‘I think we owe you their decision to help, Tytos Hill,’ thanked the Princess.

 ‘We cannot know that,’ answered Tytos with a knowing smile at her.

 ‘I will see that you are suitably rewarded for your loyalty,’ announced her brother. ‘If you accept I will put you in charge of a great part of our forces when we march south, to make up for your sacrifice of men in the battle for Winterfell.’

                Tytos cocked his head and frowned, not understanding this sudden surge of generosity. Jon Snow added, almost as if he could have read his mind:

 ‘My sister and I feel you are one of our truest allies. We may be fools to put too much trust in you, but we have no choice. We cannot win alone.’

 ‘I am grateful, Your Grace, and Your Highness. I am not worthy of your trust indeed.’

 ‘However, I need to make something clear with you,’ warned the King.

 ‘I knew there was a ‘but’ somewhere… Or a ‘however’, which is the same really…’ complained Tytos.

                He felt the weight of Brienne’s disapproving look on his shoulders. He had been called a funny man before, but his humour was completely lost on her, and on all the people in this room for that matter, since the King carried on with his scolding as if nothing had been said:

 ‘I hear you talk of going home after the Lannisters are defeated. You are a man from the south, and as all the other men from the south you do not seem to see where the real threat is.’

 ‘Forgive me, You Grace, but the thread of my head being chopped off by some Lannister golden sword sounds real to me.’

 ‘At least your body would not come back to find your head somewhere,’ argued Jon Snow.

 ‘Oh, is this the grumpkin-snark talk I have heard so much about?’ said Tytos with scorn. ‘I was expecting it soon enough.’

 ‘Will you shut your mouth for a moment?’ Brienne erupted.

                Tytos was so surprised at her reaction that he did keep his mouth shut. _Who does she think she is to talk to me like this?_ The King seized the opportunity to talk:

 ‘Yes, I am used to this kind of talk. I do not know what it will take to convince you that the threat is real, but if I must then I will dare you to go beyond the wall and see for yourself. I could start by bringing you to Castle Black, and then you will be forced to acknowledge it. Or claim that all the men of the Night’s Watch have been stricken by some mental delirium. I have seen the Others, I have fought them, and I did not win. I barely escaped. It is almost impossible for me to describe them to you, they are… They are other. They are nothing like what we are used to in the south. They are pure cold.’

                The atmosphere in the room was such that Tytos could not speak. He could never admit to his being convinced, but he thought it less impossible as he did a few months ago. Something about the land surrounding Winterfell had made him think it was possible for such strange things to happen. He had not exactly come to love the land, but he was drawn to something in a way he could not explain.


End file.
